Cuddles, Actually
by mjweasley
Summary: John just needs a bit of love and attention. Random ramblings, very slight male/male slash.


A/N: Don't own. Obviously. Christmas gift for sherlocksviolin over on Tumblr. Erm, I don't believe there is much warning or spoiler to it. Fluffy slash, but you might have to squint. Friendship. Possible swearing. I'm not to sure yet. I type this before I really have a story. Enjoy. And I might write more to it later.

Cuddles, Actually

The rain outside seemed to mirror John Watson's current emotional state. He let the silent tears fall as he stared at the bleak world outside. He just felt like crawling into a deep, dark hole and not coming out for a few hundred years. He knew that option was highly impossible though, so he just let his tears fall until they just refused to fall anymore. He lifted his hand to wipe away the last stray tear before looking down at his phone and breathing out heavily. He didn't realise that he had any messages, but to his surprise, he had two. He opened the first one.

_Free tonight? Fancy going out? Sarah._

John groaned. He'd been trying to build up the courage for weeks to properly talk to Sarah and now here was the perfect chance. Except.. he didn't really want to see her face to face. He pressed the call button and waited for it to connect. Three rings in and Sarah's voice greeted him.

"John, hi! Glad you called. I was thinking we could - "

"I can't do this anymore Sarah. I just can't." John interrupted. He could hear Sarah's sharp intake of shock as he spoke, and the line remained quiet for a few minutes. Sarah spoke again, and John noticed that her voice was still quite steady, if not a little softer.

"Can't do what, John?" A sigh.

"This, Sarah. This half-hearted dating. You and I both know it's true. We just haven't...clicked."

John cursed at himself inwardly for sounding so damn cliché. He waited for Sarah's reply. He didn't wait for long.

"I.. I guess so. At least we gave it a try right?" He could hear Sarah start to tear up through his phone. He cursed at himself again for making her feel horrible. She was a nice person who deserved better. He told her just this.

"Sarah, you deserve better. And... consider this my resignation. I just.. I just can't handle being there after today." The tears threatened to fall again.

"But, John, it wasn-" John disconnected the call, before another sigh could escape from his mouth. That went better than he imagined, but he still wished he didn't have to do it. He was caught up in his thoughts when the flashing screen of his phone brought him back to reality. He still had one unread message.

_Don't stay up. On a case. -SH_

John just rolled his eyes. Since when did Sherlock care about the social niceties of informing that he would be home late? His shoulders seemed to answer his own question. John let his eyes wander around the room, deciding what to do. His eyes fell upon the television and the couch. He slowly moved towards it, near throwing himself on it. He felt something silky rub against his hand as he laid down, and scared it might rip if he tried to remove it whilst he was laying on it , John stood up and observed the object. It was Sherlock's favourite dressing gown. John picked it up and turned it over in his hands. It felt so soft, and worn in the elbow joints, so it was obviously much loved. He flopped back down onto the couch, Sherlock's dressing gown covering his chest. The distinct smell of Sherlock wafted up to John, and he breathed in heavily. This is just what was needed; a familiarity, something comforting. John just lay there, his thoughts about watching rubbish telly disappearing completely. He shut his eyes, just slowly breathing in the scent of his flatmate, letting the memories of the day wash away. Sleep soon settled over him, and very quickly he begin to snore quietly.

This was how Sherlock found him a few hours later when he had finally returned home. He had, of course, solved the case and almost instantaneously for a matter of fact, but he had been forced to stay behind at the Yard to help with the damn paperwork. He was grumbling as he entered the door, but the sound of John's snores made him stop and look over. He found the sight of John half covered with his dressing gown endearing. He smiled to himself as he removed his coat and scarf, and continued to watch the older man. As he looked over his roommate, he detected a slight shiver so he thoughtfully pulled a blanket over John. Looking around their apartment, he realised that he couldn't do many of his favoured time wasting hobbies, so he elected to sit in the armchair opposite and continue reading his latest book. He grew bored within five minutes, so he placed the book down, and went about observing John.

He always found it interesting to observe someone in their sleep,. It was harder to read their life, but he could normally detect usual sleeping patterns, dreams and some small facts about the person in question that he could deduce when they were awake. He took in his tear stained face, the flicker of movement between his eyelids and the fact that John was quite desperately holding on to his gown and pieced it all together to Sarah. No, not just Sarah, although she was a factor. John had been funny about her for the past couple of weeks, and his sleeping indicated a possible desire to sleep away the pain. But John didn't cry often, so it must have been something extremely upsetting to him. Sherlock leant in as close as he dared to gain a better look at the tear marks. John hadn't wiped away his tears, he had just let them fall. Clearly, John cared less about himself at the moment because _whatever_ had effected him quite severely. He was still in the clothes he wore to the hospital, so obviously, the incident had occurred there. The sound of John snoring caught Sherlock's ears, and he forgot about observing. He just sat there, drinking in the sight of his roommate. To be fair to himself, Sherlock counted himself as lucky that he had such an adorable.. what was the term? He couldn't say they were boyfriends, in any definition. Perhaps partners. That sounded about right. Because they were; partners in solving crimes, living partners and even romantic partners. He waved away the notion, content enough to know that John was his. He went back to staring at John. The two remained like that until John stirred. Unconsciously, Sherlock leant over, his hand outstretched ready to take hold. He had become extremely protective over John, especially from himself. He had learnt what nightmares scared him the most, and when they would hit him. Sherlock knew to be near by on those nights. John's eyelids slowly flickered open, and he gave a small smile before making to sit up.

"You know, normal people don't stare at their friends while they're sleeping."

"I'm not normal."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Both men started to laugh, just like the night they chased the cab through London streets. The memory of it made John smile long after their laughter had stopped. His eyes met Sherlock's and he gave a small giggle.

"What now?"

"You're smiling. Good. It doesn't suit you. Being upset I mean."

The smile faded instantly and John got up, shaking the blanket off him and started to make his way to the kitchen. Sherlock knew then and there that he had made some sort of mistake, and stood up, catching onto John's wrist as he walked past. He had no choice to turn around. Hi eyes had lost all previous amusement, and he stared icily at the consulting detective. He went to turn away again, knowing that Sherlock was applying his methods, but the grip on his wrist was too tight.

"No."

A questioning eyebrow was sent in John's direction.

"No what?"

"I'm not telling you. Now let me go."

John tried to pull away, but Sherlock tightened his grip, if that was even possible. John shot daggers at him, but Sherlock ignored him.

He pulled John over to the couch, and forced him to sit down. Sherlock sat back down on the chair opposite him. They sat in silence, John purposely avoiding Sherlock's obtrusive stare before the latter man broke the silence.

"Tell me John. I need you to help me with cases and you won't be much help if you're moping all the time."

John finally snapped, letting free all his emotions that had been brewing inside.

"Me moping? Me? What about you! You absolutely go insane when you don't have a case! Don't," John voice turned into a threatening tone, "look at me like that. Just because you consider yourself above emotions, doesn't mean that I do! People died today Sherlock! In my care! Do you have even the faintest clue what that does to someone? No, well, we established that! Just.. piss off."

John just collapsed back into tears and fell back into the couch, his whole body shaken. There was still much o say, but he knew that Sherlock wouldn't care, or more likely, wouldn't understand. It had come between them that Sherlock was capable of caring, even if it was just for one person. Sherlock just watched as his friend was overcome by this grief. He felt helpless as to what to do. He decided on the course of action he had seen so many people perform on the rubbish he watched on the television. He sat next to John and very awkwardly wrapped his arms around the smaller man. John's crying eased up a little, and he shifted his weight so that he was leaning against Sherlock's shoulder. Soon enough, John had stopped crying altogether and looked up.

"Thank you."

Sherlock just smiled at him and gave him a peck on the forehead. He gently unwrapped himself from John before getting up and actually making his way into the kitchen. He returned some minutes later with two mugs of tea. He remained standing while he offered one to John.

"We'll talk later."

And with that, Sherlock walked off away into the kitchen away. John only assumed that he was going to continue an experiment. He finished his tea quickly, and decided to make another. As the kettle was boiling, he went over to Sherlock and wrapped his around the other's waist. Sherlock looked down and smiled before wrapping his arms around John's back. A question came to Sherlock and he voiced it out loud.

"What's with the sudden need for affection John?"

John looked up before burying his face back into Sherlock's chest, inhaling his scent for the second time tonight.

"I just need a good cuddle."


End file.
